I'm Not Him
by 3y3ball
Summary: Not many people have taken a look into the mind of Toby Issacs. Differentiating yourself from the most hated guy in Degrassi history can prove to be difficult. Oneshot, Toby


I was Degrassi's resident geek, sharing my passion of computers with other nerds that had just as pathetic of a life as I did. Well, that's what I once was. Don't get me wrong, that Emma-loving, computer expert Toby was still inside of me, but it had dug a grave for itself with the shovel handed, and now I was trying to dig it back out again. Just like all things though, each time I lost track of myself, the hole I had been ensconced in had become a little bit deeper each time I let myself sink back down. Taking that into view, I seemed to be stalling in my recovery progress quite a bit lately. My old scholary attitude didn't seem so inviting anymore; I just simply didn't find the same entrallment in it as I used to. Recently, I had lost interest in everything but silence and my room.

After the shooting, Kate felt that it was absolutely imperative that I be put into counseling. I had heard about it from poignant stories of others, but never would have once considered that _my_ life would sink so low. I mean, that load of bull had always been for the kids that were either very annoyingly emo, or just were really that desolate to the brink that they needed someone else to pry into their minds and grope around. I didn't want that happening to me; that was never supposed to happen to me. I guess that's what I get for being the dejected guy who currently has no friends. My sequel to being the school nerd after all these years was being welcomed with a pity party by my parents, and a stranger. That just made my confidence skyrocket.

I wanted to change, I really did. I wanted to be able to be the next Jimmy Brooks or anyone; I wasn't picky. They're the ones who received all of the support from the school, and even people who didn't know them liked them. I wanted that. The reassurance that you wouldn't be shoved into a locker the very next day, or have lewd phrases repeated to you to the point where you could sell them for a penny and be the richest person in the world, must have been condoling. Then again, that act of savagery probably never happened to people like them. Guys like me, geeks, nerds, bookworms, whatever one wanted to call them - were the ones who got their dose of pain for the day instead, and when one added up the masses of students, it ended up being quite a beating.

People partially blame me for what happened a few months ago. One affinity between loners had suddenly given a green light for the liability to be thrown on me after what happened. It didn't help that I was an easy target, especially for those big guys, like the one with the mullet. I guess size can make up for the lack of brains (or a haircut, for that matter) when faced with a situation like this. Despite what my friends were led to believe, I had eventually accepted that I had been friends with Rick, and I probably couldn't stop his desperate motives even if I had tried. Well, I still wasn't sure about that; I'm still reasoning with myself. I probably could have, if only I had made more of a point to stop him. I was the one who was his comrade in the entire ordeal. I should have opened my eyes and payed attention to what was going on. Of course people bullied him; they all knew what happened. I knew that he was tired of being shoved into lockers and getting his books knocked out of reach, but I had merely thought that he was coping with it, and most of all, enduring and thriving. Apparently, I thought wrong.

I remember last Monday morning, as I tried to arrive early to beat the rush, and get to class. I tried to take the obscure way to Media Immersion, like I've been doing lately, and I guess it was just my lucky day. With just a few new scrapes and bruises, I had survived the worst part of the journey, and was thoroughly happy. When put all together, my story might have really seemed pitiful; how unimpressive was it when someone was happy for not getting assailed too badly on the way to class? Greatly, I supposed. I just figured all of this bulling directed at me had to be over soon. Eventually my peers would come to realize that I wasn't at fault here, I wasn't the psycho that had trained the gun and fired at those who I felt needed to serve a punishment, or be condemned to the worst possible form of vengeance: death.

That wasn't me.

If I just layed low for awhile, I would go unnoticed. After spending countless hours in my room contemplating the specific point in time when the situation dealing with Rick turned dangerous, it became routine to head straight home and lay there, staring at the bedpost above me. No longer did I want to go out with JT or Danny (not that they really wanted me around. They saw it as more of an obligation), Manny, or even Emma at that. Worst part was, I actually saw this transformation in myself. I knew it was for the worse; I could only goggle as I saw more and more of Rick's attitude in my image in the mirror everyday. I refused to become like him. I'm not Rick.

That thought is what had given me the motivation to join some of my old school activities, and make more of an effort to spend time with my so-called friends. I wasn't enjoying what I used to do anymore though. I missed my room, hell, I even liked the moments with Degrassi's most hated guy better than dragging myself to another unimportant computer meeting. I just continually told myself it was better forcing myself to league with other groups, than to even come close to Rick's resignation from life, if not just for the sake of my sanity. As for that therapist, she could kiss my ass. All she wanted was something to turn into a big dramatic story, to just make some unearned cash off of my parents. All of it bothered me, but I didn't let it get to me. I couldn't. Everyone knew - I really knew - what would happen if I did.

Here I am, as revealed, exposed and raw as I've been in ages, if not ever. Toby Isaacs, in the flesh.

Things would get better. I would repeat that to myself as long as it would take to finally start believing it. The only problem was, that thought seemed more eccentric and out-there as the days passed by.

I'm starting think I'm only getting farther away from my goal, not closer to it.

Solace seems like the farthest thing from grasping point right now.


End file.
